Nightly Comfort
by Windblown.child
Summary: Thorin is not afraid to act on what he wants, even when those actions may not be for the best. Thilbo Bagginshield, bittersweet and evergreen. TO/BB with other pairings hinted at.
1. An Unexpected Journey

I just couldn't resist this newest take on a childhood favorite.

Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

Edit: Adjusted some formatting.

* * *

An Unexpected Journey

After running clear across Hobbiton to catch up with the company of dwarves, Bilbo Baggins found himself perched on a pony, his racing heart slowing, surrounded by rambunctious dwarves and a very amused wizard. It quickly became apparent that the short equine was not going to hurl him to the ground and the hobbit relaxed slightly in the saddle, letting his mind wander. However, the trees and flowers soon lost their luster as boredom began to creep in on the halfling's mind.

His companions did not seem overly interested in talking to him, even to answer his questions, so he gave up asking. Instead, Bilbo took to his usual traveling pastime, writing songs. But every time he got a good set of lines, one of the dwarves would let out a sharp bark of laughter or something would go whizzing over his head. The interruptions wiped the tune from the halfling's mind and he would have to start all over. Eventually he gave up making his own music and remembered the song the dwarves sang the night before.

Thorin's voice had been deep and somber as he told the tale of the lonely mountain, sending goose pimples across Bilbo's arms and a shiver down his spine. That night as he fell asleep listening to the rag tag band of dwarves and their prince, he had dreamed of joining their adventure and seeing Erebor. Now he was seated precariously on his pony and studied the royal dwarf's back.

With nothing better to do during the long days than listen to the dwarves tell bawdy stories and insult each other playfully, Bilbo compiled a list of things the dwarves considered normal that were completely outrageous for Hobbits. At the top of the list was their feisty attitudes. It seemed breed into the hardy race to always be spoiling for a fight, be it with elves, each other, or a tree root that tripped them. They also bragged about everything. And then there was the stubbornness. Once they decided on a course of action, nothing could dissuade them.

Before many days into their journey, Bilbo decided that Thorin Oakenshield did not like him one bit. This troubled the hobbit because his only experience with disliking someone was because they had paid him insult first. As far as he knew, he hadn't done anything to insult the dwarf and yet the prince wouldn't even look at him. The halfling decided it was simply one of an increasing list of differences between himself and the sturdy people.

* * *

After the troll incident, Bilbo felt both elated and crestfallen. On one hand, he hadn't lost his head when Fili and Kili shoved him towards the camp and the stolen ponies. But on the other, he had gotten all 13 of the dwarves caught and nearly eaten. It had proved that Thorin did have some care for his well being when he laid down his sword, but the sharp words regarding his carelessness hurt worse than being manhandled by the trolls. Though, in the end, they found a good supply of mutton and the elvish swords in the hoard.

Gandalf apparently had words with the prince because Thorin began acknowledging the burglar's presence without insult. Bilbo just wished it wasn't by staring at him across the camp every night. The hard dwarf's gaze made the hobbit uncomfortable. He felt almost naked as the rest of the company slept and the older man kept watch. To distract himself from the intense scrutiny, he quietly observed the other dwarves as they slept.

After only a few nights, Bilbo had come to recognize that there was a silent agreement as to sleeping arrangements and it was easier to wait for everyone else to settle down before laying out his own roll on the edge of camp. Fili and Kili were always pressed close to the fire and would often shove each other before pulling the other close again as they slept. Bifur always settled between his cousins, Bofur and Bombur, held tight between their mass to ensure he didn't start hitting any of the other dwarves. Ori, Nori, and Dori were such a mass of limbs and leather the hobbit wondered just how close the brothers were. Gloin would often speak of the beautiful dwarf maiden that had consented to be his wife and his young son, but was often pressed close to his brother Oin in the night. Though younger, Dwalin would curl protectively around his brother, always adjusting their blankets closer around the older man as Balin pushed them away. Only Thorin kept his bedding away from the others and slept alone.

* * *

The last thing he expected from the injured dwarf was to be pulled into a tight embrace and relabeled as friend. The hobbit hadn't anticipated anything more than a few cold words and being relegated to being ignored at the back of the company again. Instead, Thorin had specifically requested the burglar tend his wounds and sat quietly as Bilbo dabbed at the blood and grime smeared across his back. The muscles under his small hands felt like stone and even in pain, the prince's shoulders were straight and head held high. As doubtful as he was regarding the plausibility of success of this venture, the hobbit knew if anyone was able to defeat Smaug the Golden, it would be Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thror, Son of Thrain.

Bilbo was ready to take his place at the back of the line of dwarves when Thorin appeared at his side. The hobbit startled, but didn't say anything as they began the long trek down from the eagle's aerie. When at last they reached the bottom, the prince still traveled next to the burglar. Thorin's continued presence confused the young hobbit and amused several of the company but a glare from the royal dwarf silenced their whispers.

That night when they set up camp, the hobbit moved to his usual place near Fili and Kili, laying out his bedroll for the night. As he pulled the blanket up to his chin, the diminutive man glanced across the fire expecting to see blue-gray eyes studying him through the flames. Bilbo startled when he realized the prince was nowhere in sight and a heavy pack landed next to him. There stood Thorin, face unreadable for a moment before he lowered himself to the ground beside the hobbit.

Cold and confusion kept the Shireling from sleep for long hours and he couldn't silence the squeal of surprise when a heavy arm settled around his waist and pulled him firmly against the broad chest of a dwarf. Bilbo tensed and tried to pull away but Thorin tightened his hold on the burglar.

"Relax, little one." The prince whispered into the tapered ear of the hobbit.

The hot puff of air against his sensitive ear sent a shiver down Bilbo's spine and he did not relax under the heavy arm. Thoughts whirled around his head faster than he could think them. He was quite sure he was dreaming but when the situation didn't change after pinching himself, the halfling tried again to squirm away.

"Lay quietly, Baggins so we can sleep." The dwarf settled more comfortably into the blanket and gently pressed his cheek to the hobbit's hair. "Unless you find me distasteful?"

"N-no, not at all."

"Good." Thorin grunted and Bilbo knew it was the end of the conversation.

He willed each muscle to relax and tried to ignore the dwarf behind him but the prince's presence flooded his senses. Thorin's breath stirred his hair and the heavy arm weighed down every breath, but what stood out in his mind the most was the great wall of hard flesh radiating heat through leather and linen. Eventually, the comfortable warmth lulled him to sleep and he dreamed of a cloud shrouded mountain and the tunnels through its roots.


	2. The Desolation of Smaug

I just couldn't resist this newest take on a childhood favorite.

Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

* * *

The Desolation of Smaug

Morning dawned cold and bright and Thorin climbed to his feet as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred the night before. Balin nodded approvingly at his cousin and packed his bag. Bilbo wrapped his arms around his knees as the heat left by the dwarf was lost to the morning. No songs came to mind as he walked, hardly seeing where to put his feet as he pondered the dwarf lord. He decided that Balin was right earlier in the journey, there was a dwarf he could call king. The realization that he was willing to have a king was so strange to the hobbit, he didn't see the bank of the little river until it was too late.

Dwarves quickly hauled him back to shore and deposited him on a dry rock. The water was extremely cold and Bilbo could feel his fingers start to clench in pain at the temperature. Someone pulled his sodden pack from his shoulders and poured the water from his belongings. Warmth settled heavily around his shoulders as Thorin wrapped his fur coat around his smaller frame. Before the burglar could object, the prince moved away and began discussing camping for the night where they were with Balin.

"So, I see you and my uncle are getting along." Fili commented as he wrung out the wool blanket.

Bilbo could only gape at the young dwarf, wide eyed and swimming in the jacket. "B-but I have no idea what is going on!"

"It's been an age since he took such care with anyone. Since before Kili was born."

"Is that normal for a dwarf?"

"Goodness no!" Fili laughed bitterly. "Uncle used to stay with Balin when he was around, but he hasn't in a long time. I'm not surprised he picked you. Kili and I were tempted to invite you to share our bed, you know."

"B-b-but you're men!"

This made the light haired dwarf chuckle loudly. "We crave companionship and love others as much as we desire gold. And with so few women, why not consider the men?"

Bilbo could agree the dwarf had a point, but he was a hobbit and that kind of closeness was not for him. "Well, it's just not done in Hobbiton, I can tell you that."

Fili leaned down closer to the shivering halfling. "Are you sure about that?"

Thorin called for the company to continue at least for a few hours as there was much daylight left and Fili hurried off to join the others. Bilbo slowly got to his shivering feet and hiked the long jacket up so it wouldn't drag on the ground. The prince made no move to take the garment back so the burglar remained in its warm embrace and puzzled over what Fili had implied. He knew he had never married because he just never got around to it, which was convenient as he was now far from the Shire. But he could also name a handful of others that never found a nice hobbit woman to have lots of curly haired children with. Some even lived with other hobbits and Bilbo realized what exactly Fili had implied. Other than it being completely new, he could think of no real reason why it was morally wrong.

As soon as he had this thought, Bilbo glanced up and saw something large and gray through the trees but it wasn't a boulder. "Kili, do you see that through the trees?"

"Aye, though I don't know what it is."

The company of dwarves, hobbit, and wizard approached the object and were surprised to hear a low buzzing, as of thousands of bees all swarming around a blooming tree. "Ah, a bee hive." Gandalf explained to the others.

"Good, we can have honey with supper." Gloin raised his ax to break open the hive but Gandalf stopped the weapon with his staff.

"Do not damage them. I know who tends these hives and he would be most displeased if his precious bees were harmed."

"Is he friend to dwarves?" Thorin pressed for more information, hoping they might obtain shelter and supplies with this beekeeper.

"He is not an enemy, but he prefers to keep to himself most of the time. Though we might as well ask, as we have lost most of our supplies."

* * *

So they found themselves standing before the great door to Beorn's home, stomachs grumbling and hopes high. When they met the master of the house, he seemed too large to be allowed. Almost the width and depth of a dwarf, but as tall as any man and covered in dark black hair. Bilbo made sure to keep close to the dwarves to avoid being accidentally squashed by their host. Beorn was kindly and welcomed the company in for warmth, food, and sleep. Gandalf told their tale of passing through the Misty Mountains and warned of goblins possibly attempting to enter his lands and the orcs following them.

Beorn smiled dangerously. "It has been some time since I have had such sport come to me. I will look around as you sleep."

At the mention of bed, the hobbit yawned and almost laid his head upon the table, but the host chuckled deeply and the company was shown to rooms around the great hall. Bilbo curled up gratefully on the soft mattress under Thorin's fur coat but despite his exhaustion, he could not find rest. The desire to see the leader of the company came over him and was not to be ignored. When he reached the room the prince was given, he saw it was slightly open and there was movement before the fire.

Silently, he peeked through the gap in the doorway and saw Thorin struggling to remove his hauberk. When the armored leather slipped away, Bilbo saw the angry bruises fully black across his broad back and frowned. The dwarf was attempting to wash the grime from his skin but hissed as he stretched and pulled sore muscles. Announcing himself with clearing his throat and entering the room, the halfling sat the large jacket on the corner of the bed.

"Thank you, Thorin." He twisted his hands together as the blue-gray eyes studied him. He tumbled on before his nerve failed him. "I could tend your back again, since you can't reach properly."

Nothing changed in the prince's gaze but he inclined his head slightly and dipped the rag in a basin of warm water beside him. "I would enjoy that."

Bilbo approached the bed, unsure of where to sit but Thorin quickly laid himself on his stomach across the mattress. The hobbit took the damp rag and gently ran it across the broad expanse of skin before him. He had to kneel close to the dwarf's hip to reach but somehow did not blush at the contact. Thorin stared at the fire as the young hobbit gently washed his back but his gaze was softened. His gentle movement of the rag slowed as he studied the royal dwarf's profile lit by the fire. For a dwarf, he had fine features, his brow was strong but not overpowering, his nose regal and not even slightly bulbous as others were, and his lips looked soft.

Realizing the hobbit had finished with his back, he rolled over as gracefully as he could without dislodging the halfling, baring his chest for scrutiny. Bilbo repeated the process, carefully running his fingertips along the edge of the bruise splashed across his ribs. Thorin hissed and twitched in pain as the burglar touched a particularly painful spot but remained silent as he explored it.

"Broken rib."

"I know."

"Let me find something to bind it."

"No." The answer was harsh, and Bilbo flinched. "I don't want anyone to see."

"But you're showing me." He began washing the rest of the older man's chest, marveling at how little give the flesh had.

"I trust you."

Of all the answers the halfling expected, that was not one of them. As the dwarf's eyes were closed and he couldn't think of a proper answer, Bilbo did not respond. Instead he went back to studying the well muscled torso slowly rising and falling with Thorin's breath. He was surprised that it was quite as hairless as his own chest considering how hirsute they appeared while armored. Only a fine sprinkling of dark hair trailed from his navel under his breaches. Old scars were nearly invisible but told a story of a proud warrior and his lofty heritage. The Shireling thought of his own unmarried body and how soft it really was. He was as far from a dwarf as it was possible to be and still diminutive in size.

When Bilbo went to leave the bed, he realized that the dwarf's large hand was pressed against his thigh as if to hold him in place. The hand flexed at his movement and Thorin opened his eyes. The hobbit wished for a moment that he could decipher what thoughts were behind those eyes, but he was as unreadable as ever. He realized in that instant that the dwarf was not cold in any way, only guarded.

"You are leaving." It wasn't quite a statement, but not entirely a question either.

"Would you like me to stay?"

"If you wish to."

Bilbo knew that was as close as the prince would come to saying he did so he removed his waistcoat with the ruined buttons and laid down beside the dwarf, pillowing his curly head on the hard shoulder. The morning came quickly, and Bilbo woke alone in the large bed, the space where Thorin had lain rapidly cooling. Not quite sure if he was disappointed, the halfling got out of bed and let out a startled shriek when he realized Thorin was fully dressed and leaning against the wall watching him. A quick upturn of his mouth and the dwarf was gone to rouse his companions.

* * *

Mirkwood was appropriately named, Bilbo thought as he surveyed the dark maw of trees that indicated the path they were to take. When Gandalf assigned him to keep notes of their travels through the forest, he wanted nothing more than make the wizard stay with them, bother the important business he had to attend to. But the old man left and Thorin lead them fearlessly into the wood. Truthfully, Bilbo was not surprised to wake one morning with webs wrapped around his legs and no dwarves in sight. It seemed to the hobbit that nothing would ever go according to plan in the company so he set out to find his companions.

Living in a hole in the ground meant dealing with spiders on a regular basis but secretly he never liked them. Now the spiders before him were giants, able to drag the dwarves with ease and his blood ran cold. If ever a moment he would flee, it would be now, faced with half a dozen massive spiders and all of the dwarves wrapped in webs and poisoned. To his advantage, he had an elvish blade and his ring of invisibility so he struck before his heart could fail him.

Spiders fell from the trees and their ichor stained his hands but again and again he slashed at their putrid bodies until they fled the small clearing. The last dwarf freed was Thorin but he was clearly the most affected by the spider's venom. They only escaped the clearing by Dwalin and Gloin hauling him to his feet and practically dragging him away. Together they ran blindly through the trees, only caring to get as much distance between themselves and the horrible spiders. But their slow pace was not enough to distance themselves from the creatures.

When Bilbo stopped in the path, Thorin caught his arm to drag him along but the hobbit shook him off. "Run. I think I can hold them off."

"There are too many, little one!"

"Let me do the stinging. Go!"

The concern in the prince's voice gave the Shireling the strength to face the wave of spiders as they descended on him in the path. Slipping on the ring, he dashed between their hairy legs, slashing and biting with his elvish blade. And at long last, nothing moved in the darkness around him. Worry and excitement pulsed in his small breast and he suddenly wondered if he would ever see his snug hobbit hole again. And if he actually wanted to. Bilbo sprinted after the dwarves and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw their broad backs through the trees.

* * *

As he arrived in the clearing, the halfling was glad that he had kept the golden ring on his finger as the dwarves were surrounded by elves. They were as beautiful as their cousins in Rivendell, but their eyes were hard and cold. Thorin glared back, pushing away his companions that would help him stand. Ever he was the Prince Under the Mountain, even when taken prisoner by enemies. Quickly and quietly as he could, Bilbo followed the elves and their captives to their kingdom beside the river.

When Thorin refused to answer why the company of dwarves was traveling through Mirkwood, Thranduil waved a long fingered hand and two brunette elves forcibly removed the prince's jacket and hauberk, leaving his already bruised back bare. A long whip made of beautifully braided vines was produced. As the first strike landed, Kili nearly impaled himself on an elf's sword to get to his uncle before the others could hold him back. Thorin refused to cry out even as he fell to his knees, blood trickling down his back.

Bilbo had to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from crying out for Thorin as each stroke fell. Eventually Thranduil tired of watching the beating and waved his hand again. The dwarves were herded out of the throne room and down into the bowels of the palace where they were placed in separate cells. In the deepest and darkest cell, they placed Thorin where he could neither see nor hear his companions and locked him away until he would tell the truth of their quest.

The hobbit thanked his lucky stars he found the ring in Gollum's lair as he followed the elves through twisting passageways and down stone stairs. It took the rest of the day, but Bilbo eventually found all of the dwarves, Thorin being the last. The prince was kneeling on the stone floor, head hanging so his hair almost touched the ground and the hobbit couldn't help but feel his heart crack just a little at the helplessness exuded by the powerful lord. In his exploration of the palace, the hobbit had come across a large store room and taken several lumps of cheese and salted pork, distributing them to the hungry dwarves as he located them. Bilbo fingered the little packet of willow bark he pulled from his pack and approached the lonely cell.

"Thorin, its me, Bilbo."

"Go away, spirit."

"I'm no spirit, I'm really here." The Shireling wasn't surprised at the older dwarf's suspicion and removed the ring.

Slowly, Thorin looked up and upon seeing the hobbit standing before his cell climbed to his feet. "How were you not captured?"

"Well, you know, burglar and all that."

"You have to get out, before they catch you!" Thorin's eyes blazed in the low light, determined one at least should escape.

"They haven't caught me yet."

The prince conceded. "A fine burglar indeed. Now how do you plan on getting us out of here?"

"I've been all over this place, but I can't find one unlocked door or window, let alone the keys to your cells."

The dwarf nodded. "What of the others? Are they whole?"

"Yes, I've seen them all and brought them food. And here is some willow bark for the pain." As he pushed the cheese, meat, and medicine through the bars, his stomach rumbled audibly.

"Did you have some for yourself, little one?"

Bilbo felt his ears flush at the endearment but shook his head. "I can go back later. I need to look at your back first."

"It's fine."

"Just let me see. I can't do much or they'll notice."

Thorin acquiesced and turned his back to the bars as he nibbled on the cheese. The welts and lacerations across the mottled skin made the hobbit want to do uncharacteristically violent things to the beautiful people but he forced his breaths to remain even and calm. Gently he traced one finger over a raised line and sighed.

"What are you thinking, little hobbit?"

Bilbo could feel the vibration of the dwarf's voice through his fingertips and pressed his small hand against his flushed skin. Thorin exhaled at the pain but leaned closer to the touch.

"I just hope that I can be as strong as you."

"Do not compare yourself to our kind. You are a child of the kindly west, never lose that."

They stood in silence for a moment, leaning close with the bars still separating them. The halfling wished to be locked in the cell with the older dwarf so he could pretend they were simply sleeping on the trail again. A noise up the passage broke the spell and Bilbo jerked away.

"I'll find a way out of here, for all of us." The hobbit promised before darting away and slipping his ring back on his finger.

* * *

Days turned into weeks and Bilbo was no closer to finding a way out than he was to growing another inch taller. He developed a routine of stealing food and visiting each dwarf in turn for companionship and conversation, but so far the best idea anyone came up with was to tunnel their way out. The hobbit knocked his head against the solid bars of Thorin's cell for a third time and groaned.

"I don't know what to do."

The prince gently slipped his hand between the bars and the halfling's brow to prevent further injury. "The fates would not be so cruel as to let our quest end here in the clutches of the elves when we have come so far and through so much already."

Heartened by the dwarf's words, Bilbo smiled up at him. The light from further down the passage illuminated one side of the prince's face and the hobbit reached up before he realized what he was doing. He traced one regal brow and let his palm press against the warm cheek, feeling Thorin's beard tickling his wrist. The dwarf did not pull away but rather leaned closer into the touch. One large hand settled over the hobbit's and he nuzzled into the soft flesh, pressing his lips to the gentle palm before kissing the pad of each finger.

The hobbit's breath caught at the sensation and his skin felt like it was on fire. When Thorin gripped his wrist tighter to pull him closer, Bilbo let out a breathy moan and his eyes fluttered shut. The prince pressed the trapped hand against his cheek and leaned his head lower until their brows touched and breaths mingled. Vaguely, the halfling realized a heavy hand rested on his hip and pulled him closer to the bars while rubbing tiny patterns into his flesh. Despite the dark and the cell door between them, this one moment was perfection for the hobbit.

Neither knew how long they stood like that but it was clear that something had changed. Bilbo thought again that he would gladly call Thorin king once he had his kingdom back and with the determination to make their escape, he pulled away. The dwarf's eyes were unreadable again and the halfling lowered his hand to press against the broad chest above his heart.

"I have an idea."

* * *

His half crazy idea resulted in 13 weak, damp, and filthy dwarves to be deposited in Laketown, cringing in the sunlight and exhausted. Bilbo was by far the worst off, having clung to the side of Thorin's barrel in the frigid water all the way down the river. The hobbit let unconsciousness take him after the men of Dale welcomed the dwarves and promised aid. The dwarf prince gently caught the halfling and cradled him close to his chest to the great surprise of the men.

Bilbo was warm and safe in his bed when he began to slowly wake. The feather mattress was soft and the pillows cradled his head perfectly, but he had the odd feeling that he had just awoken from a terrible dream full of elves and orcs and goblins. Dismissing the vague images of sitting around a campfire listening to dwarves tell stories about a great mountain and the vast wealth within it, he contemplated rubbing the sleep from his eyes. When his limbs refused to obey his commands, the groggy hobbit slowly opened his eyes and looked around.

Instantly he knew he wasn't in Bag End and everything had not been a dream even as he turned his head to take in the rest of the room. Beside his bed sat a chair containing a sleeping Thorin, his hand carefully holding the halfling's much smaller hand. In that moment, the Shireling didn't care where he was, or whose house he was in, he just wanted the dwarfen prince to open his eyes and give one of his almost smiles. As if awoken by Bilbo's thoughts, Thorin rolled his head and glanced at the bed. When he saw the hobbit's eyes open looking at him, he smiled.

"How are you feeling, little one?"

"Very relaxed."

"You gave us quite a fright when you fainted."

"The others, how are they?"

"Eating and sleeping well, thanks to you burglar."

The halfling smiled and let his soft fingers trace over the rough calluses of the older man's hand. He took in Thorin's clean face and re-braided hair, imagining for a moment how the dwarf would look fully gray and crowned king under the mountain. The dwarf lord leaned closer to the burglar and rested his free hand on Bilbo's knee. At the moment, the collar of his shirt slipped down slightly and the hobbit spotted several strips of clean white bandage.

"You saw a healer." The Shireling was simply surprised the proud warrior let anyone else see his hurts.

"At Fili and Kili's insistence. They were convinced that you would be quite displeased if I didn't have myself seen to."

"They were right."

Suddenly Thorin pushed himself out of his chair. "Can you walk? I wish to show you something."

Truthfully Bilbo did not wish to leave the comfortable and warm bed, but upon seeing the eager expression in Thorin's eyes, he agreed. The prince lead the way to a tall tower overlooking all of Lake Town and the surrounding lands. Thorin lead the hobbit to the north wall and stood close behind him, gently capturing the smaller man between the tower and his immovable form and resting his chin on his curly head.

The Shireling examined the red terra cotta roofs, paved roads, and people running too and fro. And then he passed his gaze further to the edge of the town and the mountain rising sharply from the valley floor. Just visible were the stone gates, damaged, but still grand and magnificent. This was Thorin's home, his birthplace and his kingdom. The mountain, Smaug's attack, and his quest completely defined the dwarf, but Bilbo could not imagine the prince any other way.

It was not a conscious decision, but as he felt Thorin's lips brush the outside of his ear, he knew he would not return to the shire, if the dwarf asked.

"Erebor."

The word was a caress that made Bilbo's knees weak and his stomach flutter. The hobbit turned in the older dwarf's embrace, just opening his mouth to ask permission to stay when Thorin leaned down and brushed a kiss over his lips. A heartbeat passed and the halfling leaned up to capture his lips again.

* * *

Durin's Day was quickly approaching so the 13 dwarves and one hobbit packed their bags one more time and set off up the valley towards the lonely mountain. Their timing could not be more perfect as the thrush sat cracking snails on a small boulder and the door was revealed. Unfortunately, now was Bilbo's moment, the reason they brought him on the journey. He was the first to enter, but he did not miss the hard set if Thorin's jaw, or the way he clenched his fists to hold himself back. With heart, the hobbit entered the dark maw of the mountainside and slipped on his ring.

There wasn't a chance for the prince to look over the charred back of his burglar's jacket before dragon fire forced them scrambling into the tunnel. Then there was nothing left but to make their way to the treasure chamber now abandoned by Smaug. Once surrounded by the gold, Thorin forgot completely about the hobbit and dug furiously through the mounds of coins looking for the Arkenstone. Jealous of a stone the size of his fist, Bilbo wandered away from the treasure crazed dwarves and waited for Smaug's inevitable return.

Once the initial shock of being back inside Erebor wore off, Thorin looked around the mounds of gold for the halfling to share in the wealth, but he was nowhere to be found. When he asked his companions where the burglar had wandered off to, no one knew, having been just as preoccupied with the riches. Eventually, Bombur had the sense to find a stove and begin dinner and Bilbo ambled back to the dwarves but they were still only 13 in all. Thorin was nowhere to be found.

Balin sat down heavily beside the halfling, noting the distance he had put between himself and the rest of the group. "He'll be back soon, after he finds what he's looking for."

"But it could take months to find the Arkenstone."

"I do not believe that is what he went in search of." The elderly dwarf had seen the tenderness his lord showed the hobbit and it pained him to see the hurt in Bilbo's face. "He went to the old living quarters." When the Shireling did not move or speak, Balin excused himself and shared a long look with Fili and Kili.

Bilbo remained within sight of the fire, but he did not lay out his bedroll or join the dwarves in singing the songs he now knew by heart. Only after each had fallen asleep and their snores echoed through the mountain, did Thorin appear. The prince sighed in relief to find the burglar had not become lost in the labyrinthine passages. But when he drew near enough to see the younger man's features in the dim light, his heart fell. He could see the hurt in his large eyes even as the hobbit tried to hide it.

"Forgive me, little one, I lost myself."

Bilbo did not want to speak to the dwarf lord, but he knew Thorin was honestly remorseful so he nodded in understanding.

"I brought you a gift." Thorin held up a shirt made of shimmery rings. "This was mine when I was only a tween."

"I don't care about jewels and riches, Thorin." Bilbo sighed as the dwarf's face fell slightly.

"I would have you wear it anyways." He held the shirt out again. "It is made of Mithril and cannot be damaged."

"B-but I've never worn armor before."

"Please, Bilbo. I could not bear it if you came to harm."

The hobbit forgave the dwarf for his nature and accepted the gift, removing his coat and shirt. To his great surprise, the Mithril mail was not cold on his bare skin, nor did it weigh him down in the slightest. When Thorin ran his fingers over the metal cloth covering Bilbo's heart, the halfling couldn't repress a contented smile. Yes, Thorin Oakenshield was a dwarf, and a lord, but he looked after his subjects, and cared deeply for them.


	3. There and Back Again

I just couldn't resist this newest take on a childhood favorite.

Needless to say, I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, Lord of The Rings, any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works, or Peter Jackson's versions.

* * *

There and Back Again

Bilbo's hairy feet dangled precariously over the open space before the front gates of Erebor and he clung to the heavy hand at his throat. If he ever thought he had seen the dwarf lord angry before, he was mistaken.

"You have betrayed us, Burglar!" Thorin roared his fury and shook the hobbit hanging over the precipice.

"I was only trying to stop this mad war." Bilbo knew trying to defend his actions would fall on deaf ears but he tried despite the odds of survival.

"You know nothing of war! This is war!"

"I only wanted to save you, Thorin." The hobbit didn't shout or cry, the words were for the king's ears alone. And when he knew the dwarf had heard, he closed his eyes and let his hands fall to his sides.

The dizzying drop never came. There was no bone shattering impact. No searing pain, and no endless void of death. Thorin deposited the hobbit on the ground none too gently, but safe. "Go, leave my sight."

Bilbo couldn't meet his eyes, the companion he had thought to call his lover, the dwarf he would have called his king. He made to remove the Mithril shirt, but was stopped. "Keep it, be safe." And then Thorin left the overlook.

Months into the long journey and Bilbo wept for the first time.

* * *

The battle was fierce and the ground was wet with the blood of so many races. Bilbo Baggins wandered between the bodies, his sword hanging limply at his side. He knew not how he had survived the battle, and he cared little that he had, but now he peered at each broken dwarfen face looking for someone familiar. Blessedly, none of his former companions were among the dead on the field but his heart fell when Bifur came puffing over the hill. Once he caught his breath, he gesticulated and grunted at the hobbit until he gave up and simply grabbed the halfling, dragging him towards the mountain.

The silence of the halls was deeper than when no one inhabited them and Bilbo forgot to breath. Eventually he was lead to a door, Gandalf leaning heavily on his staff like a sentinel. "Thank you Bifur, now go rest."

A grunt and the burglar was left staring up at the wizard. "What happened Gandalf?"

"Thorin."

Bilbo pushed past the old man and through the heavy door. Thorin Oakenshield lay bleeding and broken on a bed, eyes staring upwards and breathing shallow. "I have brought him." Gandalf looked older than he ever had before as he stood by.

The king managed to turn his head enough to see the hobbit as he grasped his limp hand. "Are you hurt, little one?"

"Only a crack on the head. Out for hours."

"I would take back my words at the gate." He coughed wetly and Bilbo was aghast at the number of arrows piercing the proud warrior. "I was wrong. You did understand war. It was I who did not. Until now."

"That is unimportant."

"Hush, I have come to know if more of us valued your ways, food and cheer above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world." The strength was going out of his hand, so Bilbo squeezed tighter. "But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell."

His blue-gray eyes slipped closed slowly, never wavering from the hobbit's face as if he wanted to take the image of the halfling with him. "Farewell, Thorin, King Under the Mountain." Bilbo laid his head over the king's still heart and didn't move as the remaining company of dwarves passed through the room. He sat there quietly until Gandalf forced his exit, face dry as he had no tears to shed.

As the tomb was sealed deep within the Lonely Mountain, the Arkenstone on Thorin's breast, Bilbo was barely visible between Fili and Kili's arms. They stood together, silent in their grief, until the halls emptied of their Iron Hills kin and the torches dimmed. At night, there were three crowded together before the fire or tangled in bed for comfort. Bilbo saw but did not feel as Gandalf placed twin crowns on the brows of the last line of Durin.

He took his leave of the mountain slowly coming back to life, headless of the worsening winter weather. The kings under the mountain gifted their faithful burglar with a small chest each of gold, silver, and jewels, but he refused, taking only a few things away back to the Shire. The map to the Lonely Mountain and the key, Thorin's worn pipe, and two sketches done by Ori, as well as the Mithril shirt.

The return journey was much less adventuresome, which was fortunate as the hobbit hardly paid enough attention to direct his pony, let alone fight. He passed through the same path they had taken months before, remaining with Beorn for a time and several long weeks in Rivendell. Others traveled with the hobbit until their paths diverged, Balin and Gloin returned to the Blue mountains, Dwalin having fallen defending Thorin, and Gloin to his family. Gandalf parted ways at Bree, at the Inn of the Prancing Pony where he said he had business with another crownless king.

* * *

At last Bilbo Baggins reached Bag End, under the hill. The wide green door and little windows were safe and familiar. As he closed the door behind himself, he promised to put away his Tookishness and remain ever a Baggins of Bag End. Satisfied that there would be no more adventures or anything uncommon in Hobbiton, the burglar looked around his home. It needed a good cleaning and that was as good a place as any to start over because Gandalf had been right as usual, he was not the same hobbit as when he left.

Cleaning turned out to be more difficult than he imagined because in each room there would invariably be something that sent him into hysterical sobs. A boot knife lost behind a wardrobe, the mud from Kili's boots still smeared on his mother's glory box, a dwarfen coin in the cushions, a stained doily that once ventured as a dishrag, and his decimated larder.

When he thought he had cleared away the remaining detritus from that disastrous tea party, he retired to his own bed seeking healing sleep. But what he found was a long black hair on his pillow and a golden harp in the corner. Bilbo had forgotten that he had given up his own bed for the lordly dwarf months ago. The hair went into an envelope and the halfling sat on the bed cradling the harp that had infected him with the song of the Lonely Mountain and the kingdom it contained. For nights after, he tried to convince himself that the pillow still smelled of dwarf.

Just as roads go ever on and on, so does life_._ Bilbo's tears dried, though he wasn't sure if he ever felt whole again. Dwarves would pass through the Shire and the neighbors could hear haunting melodies drifting down the hill. His nephew, Frodo, came to live with him, though he never understood why he was sent to the Brandybuck's hole when visitors arrived. Eventually, the memories went from painful to bittersweet, to at last perfect and golden in his old age. And despite the trouble it caused Frodo in the end, Bilbo couldn't regret having gone to the Lonely Mountain and finding the golden ring because it gave him Thorin, even of only for a short time.


End file.
